


Demon's Rivalry

by andrhars



Series: Incompetent Incubus [3]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Incubus!Sheik, M/M, Praise Kink, Sheik loves his hobby, both try to take charge, even more shameless smut and silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29412828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrhars/pseuds/andrhars
Summary: Hunting grounds is a very serious thing, and dividing up territories even more so, so when an intruder encroaches on Sheik's turf and makes a bid for his chosen meal ticket, he has to stand his ground.Even if it involves a skimpy sailor costume.
Relationships: Link/Sheik (Legend of Zelda)
Series: Incompetent Incubus [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1481330
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	Demon's Rivalry

_"...and simply trim the edges to avoid any jagged outcroppings, and you're done!"_

Sheik's hands trembled minutely as he used his hobby knife to carefully slice pieces of extraneous plastic off the tiny little pot he'd spent a great deal of the last hour or so making, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as his concentration was fully focused on the task.

His breath hitched as he applied a little too much force, the knife travelling a little too far and making a tiny scratch in the metallic paint, the blending of which he'd fucked up three times in a row, to his screaming agony.

And boy had there been a lot of screaming. Enough to piss off his upstairs, downstairs, and side-by-side neighbours. The upstairs one had stomped on the floor so hard that plaster had begun to rain down on Sheik and his worktable...which, inevitably, triggered another round of screaming.

Fucking philistines had no idea the amount of blood, sweat, and tears that went into the art of making miniatures. He'd like to see one of _them_ try their hand at making tiny little apartment dioramas from scratch, using nothing but reference pictures and video tutorials for the tricky bits.

The weekly fights with Karen at the hobby store, usually over the latest and greatest in crafting materials, were another hazard the ignorant masses could never imagine. She'd nearly gouged one of Sheik's eyes out last time, her acrylics sharper than ever. At some point surely they'd have to be registered as lethal weapons?!

He'd gotten a solid hit to her solar plexus in return, though, so the fight had ended in a draw, each taking half of the special crafting moulds as their spoils. Next time, Sheik would emerge triumphant in complete victory, lording it over her pathetic, broken, soul-shaped hole of a vessel.

Running his fingers along the surface of the little pot, he was satisfied to find it mostly smooth. There were a few irregularities here and there, but only visible to the touch of his fingers rather than the naked eye. It'd have to do—at least the paint looked good.

Ish.

He still wasn't happy with the paint blend, but he'd run out patience (and supplies) for the fucking thing, so it'd have to do for this time. Next time he'd study the tutorials even closer before consigning the horrendously expensive paint to the crucible of miniature crafting.

He leaned back in his squeaky chair (another point of contention with his neighbours whenever he got into the zone and spent the whole night crafting), looking at the half-finished apartment he was modelling. It was coming along nicely, in his opinion. Sure, the counters were a little crooked because the little saw had gotten away from him, the door bent because he'd accidentally left the bag containing the materials in the baking sun of his kitchen window, and the curtains were made from re-purposed boxer material, but damn it, it was his work and he was proud!

He breathed out and placed his knife down on the table, looking over at his laptop (dutifully ignoring the shrieking of the machine spirit's cooling fans, voicing the lament of their lot in life) and sighing with longing at the sight of the instructor's own diorama, which looked so real.

"One day," he muttered to himself. "One day I'll make something that good."

His phone made a beep, signalling an incoming text message. Sheik dreaded to see the sender, and felt vindicated in his premonition when he saw the purple-haired bane of his existence's nickname pop up on the screen.

**Purple Idiot:  
im in ur neighbourhood  
want sum company?**

Sheik's stomach dropped, and he couldn't write fast enough.

**Me:  
No! I'm not at home!**

However, the fates, gods above, and demons below were conspiring against him, as the silence of his apartment (up till now only broken by crafter's unfairly soothing voice and the laptop's slow, agonising death) was rudely interrupted by knocking at his apartment door.

"I heard your phone beep!" Kafei's muffled voice shouted cheerfully from the other side of the portal. "Don't bullshit me, cousin!"

"That was just an alarm!" Sheik shouted back, cursing his idiocy when Kafei, Master Detective, gave a triumphant cry.

"Aha!" he crowed. "So you _are_ at home!"

"Auditory hallucination!"

"It sounds so real!"

"It isn't, though!"

"Sounds just like you, Sheik!"

The shouting match ended when the upstairs neighbour stomped his foot on the floor, causing more plaster to drizzle down on Sheik...and his art supplies!

"Shut the fuck up down there, or I'm calling the manager!"

Cursing, Sheik scrambled to cover up the open paint box and other bottles.

"Just get in, you idiot!" he added to his unfortunate relation. "The door's unlocked!"

The door opened and Kafei took a moment to carefully let his hand through the doorway before smiling and stepping inside fully. "Oh, so that _does_ count as an invitation," he said cheerfully to himself. "Good to know!"

"You're not a vampire, you idiot," Sheik muttered, careful to make sure every lid was screwed on the correct bottle. They were easy to tell apart based on the labels, but he couldn't stand the idea of screwing the blue lid on the red paint.

Such anarchy had no place in his home!

"Ah, if only," Kafei said, ears on stalks as ever, as the sofa gave a protesting creak from his weight. "Vamps get the best movies."

"And the worst," Sheik added, turning his swivel chair around to face Kafei, satisfied to see a cardboard holder with two cups of coffee. For once the bastard was considerate enough to bring one for him too. "You've seen the Sunrise ones, right?"

"I preferred the porn parodies," Kafei said, leaning back in his seat, still dressed in his peacoat, cheeks rosy from the rapidly falling autumn temperature. "Did a far more realistic job of depicting the horny fuckers."

Sheik let the irony of an incubus calling vampires horny fuckers rush past him, not interested in starting that particular argument again.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, reaching over to grab the cup, happy to see the GrindHouse logo rather than that of their own shop. Meant it'd actually be drinkable. He took a sip, finding the coffee the perfect temperature with a playful hint of cinnamon.

"I need an excuse to come see my cousin?" Kafei asked, daring to look innocent.

Or attempting to, at any rate. No matter what Kafei did, he always appeared empty-headed. Like there was nothing going on in that head of his. Maybe one, singular gear feebly spinning in the hope of finding other cogs to interact with.

"On my day off?" Sheik said. "Damn right you do."

Kafei looked past Sheik, noticing the half-finished diorama. "Oh, right, I forgot Sunday is model day. That one's coming along nicely."

"Don't patronise me," Sheik growled, pretending not to feel a swell of pride at the compliment. "So?"

"Just checking in," Kafei said with a shrug, sipping his own coffee. "Seeing how you're doing, that sort of thing."

"Well, clearly I'm doing fine, so you can go home now."

"Aw, but now that I'm here I figured we could talk a little."

"About what?"

Kafei's face turned triumphant. "Our conquests, of course! I don't know about you, but I've been having the _best_ week! Steady meals the whole time, but last night was just the crown jewel! Bagged myself a clusterfuck; I'm so full I don't think I'll have to eat again for like two weeks!"

Sheik tried to imagine the logistics of five people in one bed at the same time (technically doable), but he quickly aborted the visualisation when Kafei made an appearance, thoroughly ruining everything. He could only hope those poor humans weren't too traumatised by the incubus equivalent of a clown.

"I know that face," Kafei said, frowning. "You're comparing me to a clown again, aren't you?"

Sheik stared. "We've been spending too much time together," he said, refusing to acknowledge the slight sting of jealousy at the bastard's talent. How Kafei had managed to seduce four humans into sleeping with him at the same time, Sheik would never understand. Unless they were all deeply desperate.

Yeah, that sounded right.

Kafei laughed. "Well, clown or not, I'm still deeply satisfied. How about you? You've just been going straight home from work all week—aren't you starving?"

As he spoke, his face turned concerned, eyes searching Sheik's face for...something. Signs of weakness, maybe. Hunger. Well, he'd be disappointed.

"I fed on a powerful human last week," Sheik said, trying not to let Link's face get too strong of a hold in his head. Fucker was _not_ going to live rent-free in Sheik's mind, damn it! "I'm still pretty full."

Kafei's eyes narrowed. " _Another_ powerful human? Enough to keep you satisfied for that long?" he said. "Doubt."

He clicked his tongue.

Sheik glared at him. "What, you don't think I could bag powerful humans?"

"I think you can, with enough time and practice," Kafei said. "Say, about a century?"

"Fuck you!" Sheik hissed.

Kafei leaned back in his seat. "It was him again, wasn't it?" he said. "That one human? The one you told me about? Sheik, I told you—"

"I don't want to hear it," Sheik said as he turned his seat around and continued to pack down his art supplies. "Yes, we fucked again, and it was amazing."

Kafei sighed, slurping at his drink. "You're a big boy now, and it's your life," he said. "But there's a reason we only do them once. You know that. It's not just for your own protection, but everyone else's as well. You have any idea what the guys upstairs or—even worse—downstairs will do if they even _suspect_ that an incubus is about to blow our collective cover?"

"Death by slow flaying and evisceration, culminating in the complete and utter obliteration of my soul, yadda yadda yadda," Sheik recited dully, rolling his eyes. "I was there for Impa's lessons too, you know."

"Right, and if the words of our dear mother figure—may she burn in hell for all eternity because we're so fucked if she comes up here—don't sway you, I fear for your immediate future."

"Luckily, my immediate future is none of your concern," Sheik said, waving his hand dismissively.

"Disagree," Kafei said, sniffing, as if wounded. "As if I'll ever stop worrying about my poor, helpless, gameless cousin—"

"Shut up!"

* * *

The club was absolutely packed to the rafters. Halloween had descended upon the human world, and its denizens were all-too-eager to dress up to...honour the spirits? Honestly, Sheik had lost track of what exactly the not-quite-a-holiday was meant to celebrate or commemorate or whatever, but he appreciated it all the same.

Mostly because it was the one day a year humans just stopped giving a fuck about decorum, happily wearing the sexiest, least concealing outfits they could find, cramming themselves into the club and dancing with wilder abandon than ever.

How could a poor incubus resist that all that tantalising flesh being flashed at him from every direction?

Or, indeed, resist the temptation of dressing up himself?

Hence why he was currently making his way through the packed club, wearing a heavily modified sailor fuku, the likes of which would make any nerd cream their pants at the sight of him. Short sleeves showed off his slender arms, the bright maroon detailing clashing nicely with the white fabric of the cropped top, his soft belly (glamoured for the occasion) on display to tantalise and draw in hungry eyes.

The maroon skirt was short, barely reaching a third of his thighs, each twirl giving a sinful flash of the panties he was wearing, a pair of black thigh highs finishing off the bottom half with a dash of perfect _zettai ryōiki_ for the ultimate seductive energy.

His hair had been glamoured to a light pink, reaching his lower back, worn in a single braid and tied off with a black bow, matching the bows in the long and messy bangs on the sides of his head.

All in all, Sheik thought he pulled off the video game character he was cosplaying (and had spent far too much money on levelling up) perfectly.

And if the hungry looks he got from various clubbers as he strutted about were anything to judge by, he was damned right. He gave a few of the guys and gals a seductive grin and a wink, cocking his hip and turning around quickly, giving them a flash of white beneath his skirt before moving on.

Damn, he felt gorgeous!

He might not even have to open his mouth all evening in order to draw someone in.

Well, he'd be opening his mouth, for sure, but not in order to _talk_.

He reached the bar and walked away with a drink he definitely hadn't paid for in anything other than a smile and a wink, leaving the poor girl clutching her palpitating heart, hand outreached for him.

On any other night, he'd gone for it.

However, tonight he had a mission.

Link, the fucker, hadn't showed his face at the club for the past two weeks, to Sheik's immense annoyance and frustration. The bastard had _promised_! Same place, same night a week after their night at the hotel, but no. He hadn't showed. Sheik had given him a chance and come the next night, and the next, and the next. For two damned weeks he'd been coming, and still no Link.

Not that this had anything to do with feelings, mind. Sheik was hungry, damn it! You don't stand up an incubus when promising him another excellent meal—it's rude and cruel, and if this were hell Sheik would be giving the bastard a proper punishment by now.

He was willing to give Link one more chance, however. One more. If he didn't show up tonight, of all nights, then Sheik would consider him dead and gone, and would find himself someone else to have fun with and feed on.

And time was rapidly running out. The night was young yet, but Sheik's appetite had its limits, and as the minutes passed, the sight of half-naked humans grinding against each other on the dance floor, and the smell of pure lust in the air and wafting off their sweaty bodies, Sheik found his desperation growing worse and worse.

Too much stimulation—the sights, the smell, the heat, the flashing lights and pounding music—it was like the world was conspiring to pound his brain into mush.

Maybe...maybe he could have a little taste. A small dalliance with someone, just to take the edge off the gnawing hunger in his belly, the fires raking along the inside of his ribs, the itch under his skin, the growing, all-consuming void at the heart of his soul. Surely that wouldn't ruin his appetite for the main course?

A little appetiser, before the buffet of glorious fu—

He paused. Something was wrong. Off, somehow. A presence making itself known, spreading its influence. Someone, or something, had just entered his club.

Something that didn't belong here.

In _his_ territory.

He turned around, sensing where the presence was the strongest. Near the entrance...moving further into the large room. Gritting his teeth and suppressing the urge to hiss at the idea of an intruder, Sheik elbowed his way through the crowd, ignoring the lustful gazes and half-formed invitations to dance, gazing straight ahead. He emerged from the tightest pack of bodies, finally getting a good look at the person who did not belong here.

They were impossible not to spot—they'd gone out of their way to be fucking noticed—dressed as they were in a skin-tight, pure white suit with a matching cape, the collar of which was decorated with feathers and fucking _sequins_ , which caught the light of the club lights and erupted in damn near explosions of light, threatening to blind whoever gazed at them for too long. Sheik had to blink to tear his eyes off the godawful outfit to focus on the person themselves, every nerve in his body edge at the sight.

Pale skin, a body so slim it was barely there, and the biggest, blackest eyes Sheik had ever seen, one of which was partially hidden by a curtain of pure white bangs, the rest of the hair kept loose in a perfectly tussled way that framed his face.

He was surrounded by a small, adoring crowd of sycophants who appeared to be doing their best to emulate their leader, with various results, none of which could even hope to match the sheer ostentatiousness at display.

Who the hell was this guy? Sheik watched as the caped fool turned to one of his followers, listening to what they were saying with a patient smile...and then he revealed himself.

Thin lips pulled back in a grin, displaying a pair of canines that were just a little too long...

Sheik couldn't suppress a hiss now, the sound swallowed up by the thumping bass of the club.

A vampire.

A fucking vampire!

In his club!

What the fuck was he thinking? This was _Sheik's_ turf!

Sheik was barely aware of his own movements, too focused on the intruding bloodsucker to really notice how he was more or less stomping his way across the club floor, practically snarling as he let his tightly coiled presence loose, not caring if anyone else could feel the energy.

The vampire certainly did, his black eyes immediately zeroing in on the approaching Sheik, the grin on his face growing wider as he turned to face Sheik fully, striking what he apparently believed to be a dramatic pose.

"Well, well, well!" his voice, surprisingly deep, boomed loud enough for Sheik to hear several paces away. "Look at you!" His eyes raked over Sheik in an appreciative way, his tongue quickly licking along the length of his bottom lip, fast like a viper. "Aren't you a gorgeous little thing?"

Sheik stopped three paces away, crossing his arms and glaring at the vamp. "Who the fuck are you?" he growled.

The vampire laughed. "Oh, kitten has claws!" he said, to the amusement of his little posse. "I am Ghirahim! Lord of the Night!" He struck out with his arms, making his cape billow. "And these are my loyal followers—The Nightcrawlers!"

The dismal collection of humans did poses of their own, and Sheik wasn't sure if this was the saddest thing he'd ever seen or not. Second saddest, maybe. The look on Kafei's face upon discovering that there were no tentacle monsters in the human world was still at the very top of the list and a very good memory to boot.

"Cute," Sheik said drily.

"Aren't they just?" Ghirahim said happily, either not noticing or just ignoring Sheik's sarcasm. "Perhaps you'd like to join them? A pretty little thing like you would definitely fit in, given your...qualities."

The last word dripped with knowing. Ghirahim knew exactly what Sheik was, and vice-versa.

This could get ugly fast. And frankly, Sheik kind of hoped it would. He needed some way of distracting himself from the howling hunger in his gut, and this gaudy leech was just the thing he needed for that. Even better if he got to tear the fucker apart with his bare hands.

But that could possibly ruin their cover, and Sheik would rather not have his soul obliterated.

"Pass," he hissed.

"Aw, come now, baby doll," Ghirahim said, stepping closer and lowering his voice so only Sheik could hear, "we both know how this ends, incubus. So why don't we skip the pleasantries and get to the part where you get on your knees, open that pretty mouth, and do what your kind was created to do? I'll even let you drain one of my crawlers if you're a good boy."

He licked his lips again, his wormy tongue appearing far longer and prehensile than it was supposed to be, leaving a glistening trail of saliva.

Any other day, and with any other person, Sheik's nature would have compelled him to at least consider the idea. Not so now. Not only was the vampire encroaching on Sheik's territory, but he was also being a fucking creep!

"Yes," Sheik said quietly. "Let's skip the pleasantries." He leaned in closer and saw Ghirahim's eyes lighting up with delight. Sheik grinned. "Get the fuck out of my club, leech, before I rip you and your pathetic little party to pieces. This is _my_ turf, and you're stinking it up with your tacky getup—you look like a fucking clown!

Ghirahim's eyes widened, so wide they practically popped out of his skull, mouth opening in a gasp. "How dare you?!" he shrieked. "I will not take such insults from a fucking twink in a sailor suit!"

"You wish you could look this good," Sheik retorted, grinning. "Now fuck off and take your circus with you!"

Ghirahim looked ready to throw the first punch (which would be interesting to see given his death grip on the inside of his cape), but he reined himself in at the last second.

"And if I refuse to leave?" he asked sweetly, voice trembling with barely suppressed fury. "Do you really think you can make me?"

"I don't need to think, I _know_ I can," Sheik replied. "But I don't want to mess up your suit—must be a pain having it cleaned."

The pair of them stared at each for several long seconds, a small space clearing around them as the humans felt something was amiss, but unsure of exactly what it was. Ghirahim's followers were edging back to, exchanging nervous glances between themselves as their master was thwarted.

Sheik's fists clenched and unclenched, waiting and longing for that first strike by the dazzling idiot in front of him. He refused to be the one who started a fight like this. The powers that be were merciless in meting out punishments for infractions.

Ghirahim's shoulders were taut, nearly level with his ears, his teeth now fully unsheathed and bared, breathing heavily, struggling just as hard to resist delivering the first blow.

And, evidently, the first to pull himself together as he suddenly relaxed, shoulders lowering and teeth withdrawing. His eyes stopped bulging, and he gave Sheik a look of loathing.

"You won't goad me into this, incubus," he said quietly. "I have better things to do with my time than waste it on the likes of you...or this pathetic, filthy hole of a club." His face melted into a mask that was all smiles—filthy, disgusting smiles—as he turned back to his followers. "This place is clearly not up to snuff for our kind! We shall find another!"

This was met with a cheer from the Nightcrawlers, and they slowly began to shuffle out the way they'd come in. Around them, witnesses to the confrontation seemed to shrug and turn away, disappointed there wasn't about to be a fight.

Sheik briefly wondered if him fighting someone in this outfit was a viable strategy to getting laid. He'd have to investigate that later.

His Nightcrawlers were leaving, but Ghirahim remained. He turned back to Sheik, the smile affixed to his face in a stone-like fashion.

"Don't think you've seen the last of me, incubus," he said. "Lowly demons like you need to be put in their place—and I've just the idea on how to do it."

"I'll be waiting," Sheik replied, turning away. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be having a drink—"

He paused. There, right across from the dance floor, leaning on the bar, looking directly at the pair of them, was Link. He was dressed in an expensive-looking suit, holding a bottle of beer in his hand, half-full.

When the fuck had _he_ showed up?

And why _now_?!

"What are you staring at?" Ghirahim's voice asked to his right. "It's one thing to be rude in conversation, but outright ignoring someone is...is...oh..."

Sheik tore his gaze from Link and aimed it back at Ghirahim...who was also looking at the blonde man at the bar. Sheik didn't think it possible, but Ghirahim's eyes had grown ever wider than before, mouth slightly open.

"What a gorgeous creature," Ghirahim said.

Oh, hell no!

"Back off," Sheik hissed.

The vampire blinked, looking between Sheik and Link, quickly reaching an unfortunate conclusion that had Sheik's nerves standing on end once more, his drive to rip Ghirahim apart even stronger now.

"Ah, I see," Ghirahim said, nodding slowly. "So that's what you've got in mind." He chuckled. "A bit out of your league, don't you think, incubus? Why would someone like _him_ mingle with trash like you?"

"We've mingled plenty already," Sheik growled.

"But have you staked a claim?" Ghirahim asked. "Or has he claimed you?"

Sheik paused. Well, never mind that staking a claim on individuals wasn't something an incubus did in general, and humans definitely didn't stake claims in return, he couldn't say yes. But the look of hunger in Ghirahim's eyes, the eager tilt of his body towards Link suggested...suggested..

"Y-Yes," he said, unable to keep his voice from trembling.

"So that's a no, then," Ghirahim said, nodding to himself. "Well then, I believe I'll go and introduce myself—"

He went to leave, but Sheik got a hold of his cape, pulling on it harshly, which nearly made the vampire fall on his ass. Ghirahim whirled around to face him, pure fury on his face.

"What the hell are you doing?! Get your slutty hands off my cape!"

"He's _mine_ ," Sheik growled.

"I don't think so, darling, unless a claim has been made he's up for grabs!"

Their faces were inches apart, teeth bared, and eyes locked in hatred. They were moments away from erupting into a fight, and—

"Hey, guys?" one of the club's bouncers said, a big man who clearly never skipped a single day at the gym and consciously chose to wear a black T-shirt several sizes too small, standing a few paces away. "You're starting to bother the other guests, so maybe take this into the street? You're—"

"Mind your own fucking business!" Sheik shouted, locking eyes with the bouncer and giving him a very strong compulsion to go away...and possibly jerk off somewhere.

"O...Okay," the bouncer said, eyes glazing over as he slowly turned around and walked away, seemingly beelining for the toilets.

Giving a huff, Sheik turned back to Ghirahim, only to find the space vacated, the vampire's back turned and walking away...directly towards Link with an exaggerated swagger, like a fashion model walking on the runway. Leech didn't know when to give up, clearly.

Worse, however, was the fact that Link was looking at Ghirahim.

And _smiling_.

An impish, rogue-ish grin that suggested he already had some ideas on what filthy things he would do to this vampire.

Things Sheik had no intention of accepting being done to anyone but _him_.

Instincts, usually dormant so as to not give away the truth of what Sheik was, took over. Someone was moving in on his territory, his prey, and he had no intention whatsoever of letting this continue. Dimly, he was aware of his feet pounding against the floor, fingers curled into claws, as Ghirahim's back came closer and closer, his vision tunnelling so that all he saw was the interloper and monster that needed to be destroyed.

He saw his hand reach out, felt the silky sensation on his fingertips as they closed around a fistful of white strands—and _pulled_.

Ghirahim went down, clearly not expecting the sudden yank, falling on his ass. Sheik faintly heard his own voice screaming obscenities, and a disturbing amount of the word "Mine!" being repeated over and over again.

"You little bitch!" Ghirahim shrieked, long fingers closing around Sheik's ankle and viciously pulling, forcing him off-balance. Arms flailing, the back of Sheik's hand caught Ghirahim across the face, the smack so loud it could've been heard over the pounding of the club music.

All Sheik saw was red, Ghirahim's snarling face, and the flashing lights and lasers of the club entertainment system as he and the vampire wrestled on the floor, nails raking at what they could reach, fabric tearing under relentless yanking. The smell and taste of blood filled Sheik's nostrils and mouth as Ghirahim's long-nailed fist hit his nose, to which he retaliated with a knee to the fucker's groin, eliciting a high-pitched squeal from the bloodsucker.

"I'll kill you!" Ghirahim shrieked. "I'll feed you to my thralls!"

Around them, Sheik heard shouts of encouragement and suggestions of tactics, saw gleeful faces lit up with amusement and no small amount of lust.

Everyone enjoyed a catfight, it seemed.

Fighting a vampire wasn't easy. Ghirahim was slippery like an eel, and the only thing that let Sheik keep tabs on him and prevent him from gaining the upper hand was his impractical clown outfit with all its long, flowy fabrics that provided plenty of things to hold on to.

Sheik also had stamina on his side. Being an incubus was a blessing indeed as it allowed him to keep up with, er, strenuous activities for a long time. Longer, it appeared, than Ghirahim's vampire nature, it seemed, based on how winded he was getting trying to gouge Sheik's eyes out. He missed, of course, but Sheik's braid came undone at the same time, and then his scalp felt like it was getting torn out as Ghirahim found it, pulling with all his might.

"What even is this ridiculous colour? You look like horny cotton candy!" the vampire shouted.

"It's cosplay, you philistine!"

Sheik grinned and grabbed Ghirahim's collar, reeling back headbutting the vampire right on the bridge of his nose.

Blood for blood. Surely something a vampire would enjoy.

He didn't let go of the collar, though, and the stitching finally gave out as a long piece of Ghirahim's suit jacket tore off with a loud rip. The top of Sheik's sailor fuku had torn at some point as well, practically hanging off him in strips.

Sheik wasted no time pouncing on Ghirahim again as the latter clutched his bloody nose, grabbing another fistful of the vamp's hair and beginning to drag him along the floor, the crowd moving out of his way.

"Oh, what a shame, I got your suit bloody!" Sheik shouted with delight. "Let me help you clean it off, let's go!"

He intended to drag Ghirahim to one of the bathrooms and drown the fucker in one of the toilets. He only got about five feet, however, as Ghirahim's dead weight and Sheik's pulling proved too much, and Sheik suddenly fell backwards onto the floor, a handful of white hair in his hands.

Confused, he looked down at the hair in his hands, and then at Ghirahim, who was now missing a substantial amount of his fabulous fringe.

How, Sheik wondered. He hadn't pulled _that_ hard. It wasn't like he'd tried to scalp the guy (though that wasn't a bad idea, come to think of it)...

Then he realised what had just happened, and a huge grin came to his red, bloodied face. "Bitch, are you wearing _extensions_?!" he crowed.

"He tore his hair off!" someone in the crowd shouted, to great amusement from the onlookers.

"What's next, a wig?!"

Ghirahim, realising what had just happened, blindly groped at his head, not finding what he'd expected to find. His face went even paler, if such a thing was even possible at this point, and gave an inhuman screech that had even Sheik's eardrums protesting against the abuse.

"My hair!" the vampire screamed. "My fucking hair! Do you have any idea who much these things cost?! I'll kill you! You're fucking dead, incubus!" He began to drag himself across the floor, apparently not even able to stand at this point. Sheik felt a little wobbly himself, honestly, but he was more than ready to finish this bloodsucker off. Just one more round and—

"All right, all right, that's enough! Break it up!"

The crowd parted for a group of four bouncers, all equally as muscled as the one Sheik had sent packing for the toilet, as they came to break up the fight.

Uh-oh, that wasn't good. Sheik wasn't strong enough to manipulate four people at the same time. He'd have to escape, somehow, and fast!

"He started it!" Ghirahim shrieked, pointing accusingly at Sheik. "Look what he did to me," he added, indicating his torn hair and bloodied nose. "Arrest him! Ban him!"

"All right, you," one of the bouncers said, walking up to Sheik. "Come on, let's take this outside and the police can handle the rest."

"I...uh..." Sheik tried, searching for a viable excuse to attacking someone on the dance floor. Somehow he doubted these humans would accept "This vampire is moving in on my preferred target" as a reason. In this case, it came down to flight. "Bye!" he shouted, ducking into the crowd and forcing his way through, leaving the bouncers to wade through after him.

"Vaati!" Sheik heard Ghirahim shout. "Vaati! Get over here right now! Get me off this filthy floor!"

Fuck, this was bad, Sheik was at the wrong end of the club. He'd have to go out the back, but now that the rush of the fight was starting to die down in the face of panic, he wasn't sure he'd make it and—

"Oof!"

He groaned as he ran into what might as well have been a brick wall. A soft brick wall, with a silky texture. He opened his eyes (when had he closed them), coming face to face with a chest. A familiar-feeling one, now that he thought about it.

Sheik slowly tilted his head up, finding Link's face staring back at him. That fucking grin was still on his face.

"That was impressive," the human said, sounding amused. "Didn't expect you to be so...territorial."

"...mine," was all Sheik could offer.

Link paused, then reached up and carefully put his hand on Sheik's cheek. Ghirahim had scored a meaty slap of his own on that cheek, and Link's hand felt delightfully cool on the heated skin.

"Hm," Link hummed. "What am I to do with you?"

"Hey, you! Stop right there!"

Fuck, a bouncer had spotted them.

"Come on," Link said, grabbing Sheik by the wrist and dragging him towards the back door.

Sheik let himself get pulled along, too exhausted to care (and too wrapped up in the lingering feeling of Link's hand on his cheek). The atmosphere changed—from hot and clingy to cool and dry, and finally to cold and wet as they emerged into the night air.

The alley behind the club. They didn't stop there as Link pulled him along for a while yet, away from where the bouncers could find them, into the small labyrinth of dead-end alleys and backstreets.

"I think we lost them," Link said, not even out of breath as he looked back the way they'd come. Not even a hair on his head was out of place.

Perfect-looking bastard.

Sheik's bastard.

"You okay?" the human asked, looking Sheik over. "Took a few hits there."

"I'm good," Sheik said, realising he must have looked anything but with his clothes torn, his hair undone and a bloody nose. He tried to wipe away the worst of it with the tattered sleeve of his sailor fuku, but Link's hand on his wrist again stopped him.

"Here," Link said, pulling out an expensive-looking handkerchief in a royal blue colour, carefully dabbing at Sheik's nose and upper lip. "Doesn't look broken," he added.

"I think I broke his," Sheik said, relishing the memory.

"Hah, it certainly looked that way," Link said, chuckling in a deep tone that sent vibrations straight to Sheik's loins. How could one man be this attractive? "So...yours, huh?" he asked.

Sheik blushed. "You said it."

"Hm?"

"On your note. Your good boy. Me." He gestured to himself. "You looked at that other guy..."

Link blinked, and then he grinned again. "Oh, I only looked at him because of his outfit. I thought that style was out of fashion. Gave me a bit of a headache, actually."

"And mine?" Sheik asked, wishing a thousand painful deaths on Ghirahim for ruining his perfect cosplay.

"Breath-taking," Link replied immediately.

"But it's ruined—"

"Ravishing," Link said, suddenly a lot closer than before, heat radiating off his body. "Makes me want to tear the rest of it off," he added, voice lowering into a rumble. "To make you mine."

"O-Oh yeah?" Sheik replied, unable to resist the sheer want that tone woke in him. But still, he had his pride to protect, and he back away from Link...and into a freezing cold wall. He'd been backed into a corner, it seemed. "What makes you think I'll accept?"

Ah, no amount of false bravado worked on this guy, it seemed, as he simply reassumed their previous position, but this time Sheik had nowhere to go.

"Are you going to say no?" Link asked, slowly letting his face come closer and closer to Sheik's. "Hm?"

"I might," Sheik said weakly.

"Then say it," Link challenged him. "Say no, and this ends."

Sheik didn't want it to end.

Link could tell, grinning. "Good boy," he said, claiming Sheik's lips in a kiss that positively burned. Sheik's heart beat like mad, heat pooling into every fibre of his being. His hands rose unbidden, clutching the lapels of Link's jacket, feeling the silky fabric, moaning as Link's tongue invaded his mouth.

It was a like a drug. Every touch of Link's hands, every kiss of his lips, every lick of his tongue sent waves of pure pleasure coursing through Sheik's veins, setting every afire with delight and need and lust, every part of him screaming to make this human _his_ and _his alone_ , no matter how. It made Sheik moan louder, hands roaming the front of Link's chest, hard muscle meeting his questing fingertips.

Link must have noticed Sheik's eagerness, drawing back with a humming sound, giving Sheik an amused look.

"So eager," he groaned when Sheik's hands found his bulge, enthusiastically rubbing it through the fabric of his suit trousers. His hips gave a slight thrust into Sheik's hands.

"I'm not the only one, it seems," Sheik said, grinning.

"Been that way—ah—since the fight," Link replied, putting his forehead against Sheik's, heat radiating off his skin.

"Oh-ho?" Sheik said, trying to play it cool as he felt Link's own hands exploring further south, disappearing beneath his minimal skirt, finding his buttocks and kneading firmly. "Ah! Heh...the sight of me besting that bastard got you this hard, huh?"

He was losing his cool, and fast. He wanted nothing more than to get down on his knees, but if he did, then that meant Link had won. Sheik wasn't about to concede victory that easily. Luckily, Link appeared to be near the edge as well—it was just a matter of holding out.

"The sight of you in that outfit started it," Link said, panting lightly, hooking his fingers around the band of Sheik's panties, pulling them down to his thighs, his cock bouncing free, standing at attention and pushing the skirt up in an obscene display of carnal eagerness. "But yeah," he said, giving Sheik a quick kiss. "You beating him was...incredible. I'm just sad the guards interrupted you before you could finish him off."

Sheik whimpered as a warm hand closed around his member and began to jerk him off softly—not nearly enough friction to get him off—just teasingly.

Fuck, the bastard was escalating!

"I'd have annihilated him," Sheik said with a grin, finding Link's zipper and pulling it down, reaching inside, cupping the silky boxer material he found. Link groaned, leaning slightly forward, forcing Sheik to support his weight a little.

Ah, so the guy had his weaknesses too, Sheik thought amusedly as he invaded Link's boxers fully, almost gasping when the flesh he found within was so hot it nearly burned.

"Mmm, someone's pent up," Sheik purred, reaching up to bit Link's ear.

"F-Fuck," Link growled. "Careful, might start something you're not prepared to finish," he warned, the effect ruined by his increase panting.

"I can take anything you throw at me," Sheik purred again, right into Link's ear. "I'll do anything you want," he added. "All you have to do is...ask."

That did it. Link released a shuddering breath, his hands leaving Sheik's nethers to grip Sheik's shoulders, pushing gently but insistently down. "Suck it," Link growled, voice lowering.

"Oooh, someone's feeling daring," Sheik said with a quiet chuckle. "Here, where anyone can see us?" he asked, as if he weren't already lowering himself to the ground in front of Link, pleased with his victory in this battle. He deftly undid Link's belt and button, pulling the human's cock free fully.

Was he drooling? He was drooling.

"I was gonna—argh—take you home to my place," Link said, bucking desperately into Sheik's hands when they circled his flesh, "but I couldn't wait." He looked down at Sheik with heavy-lidded, lust-filled eyes. "Do you have any idea how fucking good you look like this, half-dressed and on your knees?"

Sheik knew _exactly_ how good he looked. He hummed happily as he leaned forward, giving Link's dick a tentative lick that had the human shuddering even more. "Itadakimasu," he whispered to himself.

"Wha—"

Link couldn't get the question out before Sheik's mouth enveloped him entirely, taking him all the way to the back of his throat.

"Holy shit," Link gasped. "I'd forgotten how good you are at that..."

"Hmmm," Sheik hummed, relishing in the praise. He'd worked at these skills like an obsession—he was damn well going to put his skills to use. All the while not trying to come right then and there as the taste of Link filled his mouth and his smell filled his nostrils as he slowly took Link deeper and deeper with each thrust, swallowing the human down.

"Ah...such a good boy for me," Link moaned, his hands finding Sheik's hair, tugging at his locks as he held on for dear life. It was a struggle, clearly, for him not to thrust right down Sheik's throat then and there, if his weak, abrupt thrusting was anything to judge by. "S-So good."

Sheik shivered at the praise, wishing he wasn't so weak to it. Feeling a little light-headed, he found Link's buttocks and gripped, incredulous to find just how fucking firm they were. He'd felt them before, but he'd been so certain he'd imagined it.

But all good things had to come to an end, and Link was suddenly stepping back, pulling himself out of Sheik's mouth. "Get up," he growled. "Turn around, face the wall."

Sheik climbed shakily to his feet, doing as he was told, happy that he'd worn a skirt for this as he felt the heat of Link's body looming behind him, slick fingers prodding between his cheeks, finding his entrance.

If Link found Sheik's, er, readiness odd, he didn't say anything. Maybe he assumed Sheik had prepared himself before hitting the club.

A finger entered him, and Sheik whined with need. "N-Not enough," he complained, looking back at Link, almost surprised when his lips were claimed again in a bruising kiss. "More, please..."

"If you insist," Link growled, finger leaving Sheik and quickly being replaced with something _much_ bigger and hotter. "You asked for this," Link said, thrusting inside Sheik in a single move that had the incubus howling with delight and pleasure, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the rough brick wall as Link railed him harsher than ever, with even more vigour than he had in their other encounters.

Someone was a bit of an exhibitionist, it seemed. It almost made Sheik coo with delight at how cute it was.

That is, if he wasn't suddenly getting piped like the fate of the world depended on it.

Not that he was complaining. Hell, he couldn't even say anything. All he could vocalise was various whines and moans and choked screams as Link scraped his insides and setting alight every nerve, starting a veritable fire of delight within him.

"So...fucking...tight," Link groaned behind him, Sheik's shoulder erupting in pain as he bit down on the flesh. "Delicious."

Sheik was concentrating on staying upright, his legs slowly but surely going weak, threatening to collapse beneath him. Damn it, he was stronger than this!

Link must have noticed, as he suddenly stopped thrusting and pulled out of Sheik entirely, leaving him feeling empty and whining at the sudden lack of friction.

"Turn around," Link ordered, and Sheik did so without thinking. He felt the panties being pulled off him harshly. "Here, wrap your legs around me."

The next thing he knew, Sheik was lifted into the air, legs wrapping automatically around Link's middle, his back shoved against the cold brick wall. Then Link thrust back inside him, continuing at the same pace, going even deeper than before, sending waves upon waves of pleasure crashing against Sheik's poor mind over and over, and all he could do was cry out every time Link hit that particular spot inside of him.

"Hah...ah...hah!"

"Like it?" Link asked, panting and sweating. "Like it when I...fuck you like this? Against the wall? Where anyone can see?"

"Yes...yes...yes!"

For what else could he say? Anything else would be blatant lies. Sheik loved it!

"Mine," Link growled, thrusting into Sheik again and again mercilessly. "Mine, mine, mine!"

There was no denying it. Even if Sheik had the breath or brain power at the moment to speak, he doubted he'd be able to refute it. All he wanted, all he _needed_ , was for Link to keep fucking him until climax, which was rapidly approaching.

...and wasn't that a shame?

He reached within himself and withdrew a little of his power, letting it unfold and wrap around them both. Just a little...booster. To extend the session just a little bit, to give them a little—

A sharp smack echoed in the alley, a sting of pain erupting across one of his cheeks.

Link had spanked him!

So surprised by the sudden—and pleasurable—pain, Sheik lost control...and climaxed. He came harder and louder than he could ever remember having done, covering his belly, his chest, and even his chin with his own essence, spurting out of him with every thrust of Link's cock into him.

The sight of it, and the sudden tightening of his insides, brought Link over the edge as well, and he growled lowly, teeth closing on Sheik's neck as came inside him, thrusting as deep as he possibly could, heat filling Sheik as the human pumped him full.

They remained in this position for several long, lovely seconds, panting harshly, lips finding lips in the aftermath of the climax, tongues lazily duelling for control that no longer mattered.

"So good," Link murmured, licking Sheik's bottom lip. "Best boy."

"Mmm," Sheik hummed. "Damn right I am."

"Gonna let you down now," Link warned him as he slowly pulled out of Sheik, leaving him feeling empty and sloppy, carefully letting him down. "Oh—careful!"

His arms wrapped around Sheik as he nearly fell, his legs absolutely refusing to work in the wake of the fuck of a lifetime, his body trying to recover from the both the climax and the ridiculous amount of energy Link had fed into him.

Enough food for weeks!

"Can you stand?" Link asked, all the while using the tattered remains of Sheik's sailor fuku top to wipe up the evidence of their coupling.

"I don't think so," Sheik said, slightly delirious. "You fucked the balance right out of me!" His hands occupied themselves with tucking Link back inside his boxers and trousers, though his fingers failed to do more than that, the mechanics of buttons, zippers, and belts suddenly feeling alien and complicated.

"Heh, I tend to do that," Link said with a chuckle, taking over as he let Sheik lean against him completely.

"Mmm," Sheik hummed again. "Might let you do that again."

"Was rather hoping you would," Link said, turning around so his back was to Sheik, crouching down. "Hop on."

"Eh?" Sheik blinked, confused.

"You can't walk," Link said. "And I want a round two. I'm taking you back to my place."

"Oh...okay," Sheik said, letting himself fall forward onto Link's beck, gasping a little when he was immediately lifted with no effort, hands wrapping around Link's neck for purchase as the human's hands came to hold him up under his thighs.

A fresh breeze around his nethers told Sheik that he in no way had anything on underneath his messy skirt.

"My panties—"

"Ruined," Link said, his tone slightly apologetic as he began to walk in a seemingly random direction, heading for his place. "I got a bit eager. Sorry."

"Those were silk, you know," Sheik complained.

"I'll replace them," Link said.

"You'd better—I saved up for those."

"Send me the bill."

"Hmph, I will."

The ride on Link's back was surprisingly comfortable. His back was a firm but nice and warm surface to rest against and Link himself seemed to have no trouble carrying Sheik's weight despite having just fucked him hard against a wall. Impressive stamina on this one, and Sheik wondered how much time he spent working out to maintain it.

"Where do you work, anyway?" Link asked suddenly.

"Coffee shop," Sheik replied.

"Which one?"

"Not telling."

Sheik wasn't stupid enough to tell random people he'd fucked where to find him. Sure, Link was the best lay he'd ever had, but that didn't mean Sheik wanted him to know where he worked.

Link chuckled. "Fair."

"And you?"

"Finance."

Sheik grinned. "Ah, so you're pure evil."

"You know it."

"Explains the expensive suit...that I've probably ruined."

"I've got others."

Sheik hummed again. "I'm not looking for a sugar daddy, you know."

"Good, 'cause I'm not looking for a sugar baby," Link replied, laughing. "You're not nearly well-behaved enough, anyway."

"Fuck you, I could be a sugar baby if I wanted to!"

They laughed, continuing to talk as Link navigated the maze of alleys and backstreets heading for this nebulous _place_ of his. Sheik wondered if he was making a mistake, but his mind, still flooded with pleasure, couldn't care less. He wanted a round two, and he wanted it _desperately_.

Besides, he could overpower Link if he wanted to.

Probably.

"Almost there," Link said, "just a few more blocks."

Sheik realised they were in one of the more expensive parts of the city now. The sort where rent for a month could probably cover his for a decade.

"Shit, you must be loaded," he blurted out.

"I'm comfortable," Link said, his shoulders rolling in a shrug. "We'll have to go in the back way—receptionist will have questions if I show up with a half-naked guy on my back."

"Fair," Sheik said. A thought struck him, then, and annoyance filled him faster than he expected. "Where the fuck were you these last few weeks?" he asked. "I waited."

"Really?" Link asked. "You ask about that _now_?"

"What, can't think up a lie fast enough?"

Link growled. "Don't piss me off," he warned. "Or you won't be able to walk tomorrow morning."

"Is that a promise?" Sheik asked.

Link turned his head so their eyes met. "Oh yes," he said quietly. "It's a promise."

Sheik couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through him.

He'd hold him to that.


End file.
